Dry Dream

A dream of
disturbing sense:
The girl I just made love
to doesn’t have to exist at all.
I gradually realized waking up.
She was naked and had no face,
her long hair flows dark to the feet.
We were in a mini pool made of wood.
I was on top of her, and she under.
My hands between her arms,
And my knees leg-stuck.
Supposed to orgasm,
But I got confused:
Who was the girl,
And who was I?
Was she me?
And I her?

You Must Love Me and Be Loved By Me

You Must Love Me and Be Loved By Me
by Fanz Hugo

Where do we go from here?
Will this be
where we intended to be?
What do we see?
I still believe in you.
Will you me?

Certainties disappear.
What do we do
for our dream to survive?
How do we keep
all our passions alive
as we used to do?

Deep in my heart
I’m still searching
for lives that we are longing.
Meant to cherish its meaning.
Frightened it will slip away.
You must love me.

You must love me
and be loved by me.

(Inspired by the song “You Must Love Me” from Evita)


Monologue from a Dream on May 1st, 2011

Monologue from a Dream on May 1st, 2011
by Fanz Hugo

“People are here for close encounters, not relationships! This is a different world to them! They are here to escape the boring life they wouldn’t lose, to have their wildest desires fulfilled, to take advantage of young girls just like you! They dont’t care if you are good or bad. Don’t you? What are you looking for here? Who do you think they are?”

Her father had already come and was cutting through the crowd towards her.

And she kept her silence with angry little eyes.

“Are you listening?”


A Girl’s Gone in a Dream on January 10, 2014

A Girl’s Gone in a Dream on January 10, 2014
by Fanz Hugo

Last night I had a dream.
In a neat hotel room,
for the time or date is irrelevant,
I found the utmost peace of mind.

I was laid low and couldn’t see
beyond the window.
But out of ridiculous confidence
I know what I’d see.

A quiet urban community,
wide streets with shadowing trees,
the sky azure –
oh that I can be sure.

A dozen children
running on the square;
a shy boy reading alone,
too amused to care.

The protagonist’s one and only love,
a smiling girl who likes grey doves,
was walking towards the crossroad,
where the antagonist was waving to her,

with a large bunch of roses to hold.
The rest is irrelevant now,
since it always ends with a bow.
Then she’s gone.